Lakes of the Clouds Hut, Summer 2019
High in the mountains of New Hampshire and there is a telescope
set up on the cabin deck. With soft murmuring voices,
the father in the Red Sox hat lifts his daughter the couple inches she needs
to fit her small squinting face to the viewfinder. From the railing, I watch them—
cool blue paint under my hands and night air spilling everywhere,
everywhere. He tells her how to search the darkness for planets,
their steady light. The girl’s feet dangling just above the ground
like she’s floating. Her sky suddenly jeweled and close enough to touch.
I’m trying not to feel like here, nineteen and faraway from my father,
I’ve reached a dark green edge of myself. I’m trying to believe
that I, too, could look through the telescope of my life
and see all the ones I’ve been before, staring back at me
like planets. Look at me, I tell them, I’m the one on the deck,
waving into green distance. My feet are barely touching the ground.
set up on the cabin deck. With soft murmuring voices,
the father in the Red Sox hat lifts his daughter the couple inches she needs
to fit her small squinting face to the viewfinder. From the railing, I watch them—
cool blue paint under my hands and night air spilling everywhere,
everywhere. He tells her how to search the darkness for planets,
their steady light. The girl’s feet dangling just above the ground
like she’s floating. Her sky suddenly jeweled and close enough to touch.
I’m trying not to feel like here, nineteen and faraway from my father,
I’ve reached a dark green edge of myself. I’m trying to believe
that I, too, could look through the telescope of my life
and see all the ones I’ve been before, staring back at me
like planets. Look at me, I tell them, I’m the one on the deck,
waving into green distance. My feet are barely touching the ground.
May / June 2023
Eliza Dunn is a current sophomore at Dartmouth College, where she is majoring in English and Creative Writing. She has been honored by the National Scholastic Art & Writing Awards and her work has been published in Magus Mabus magazine, The Stonefence Review, and Thimble Literary Magazine. This past spring, she received the Academy of American Poets Prize.
Art: Jennifer Peart. Hoke House, acrylic on canvas paper, 9.5”x5”